


Indecisive

by Fanlan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale has anxiety, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, good omens valentines day exchange, post series fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanlan/pseuds/Fanlan
Summary: Crowley wants to move forward in their life and relationship now that they are on their own side but Aziraphale's indecisive nature is holding them back.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53





	Indecisive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CeslaToil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeslaToil/gifts).



> Hey! this was for the Valentine's Day Exchange! I hope you like Ces!!!

It took exactly a year and a half for them to come to the choice on where to move now that their lives had finally begun. And it was dawning on two years to decide what cottage was right, Crowley almost felt a sense of sympathy for all the mortals he had to sway from purchasing any of the final four choices. All were perfect story book cottages with their own ups and hardly a down in sight.

It was pulling feathers to get Aziraphale to make a single decision though. It was the anniversary of deciding on the South Downs and yet they still had the same four choices of happily ever after laid before them, Aziraphale refusing to decide.

“It’s such a lofty decision,” Aziraphale stated once more that evening when Crowley bemoaned their lack of progress on moving forward, “You can’t just decide so hastily.”

Crowley’s views on Aziraphale were biased at this point in his existence, it was hard to distinguish the angel’s genuine flaws that needed to be worked on and things he considered quirks. Maybe the quirks were annoying or tedious, but Crowley never wanted them to change, they were endearing, and something would be missing if they disappeared. This indecision, this stalling, this constant questioning, it wasn’t like out of date slang or being a right bastard about Crowley’s table manners. It was slamming a sledgehammer to any progress they had in their relationship. It wasn’t just a flaw to put up with but a detriment to their relationship and Crowley had fought too hard for this to handle it a second longer.

Crowley’s lips were thinning, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from voicing his disdain for Aziraphale‘s indecision. He instead focused on Aziraphale’s wine rack, there was a nice one in every room of the shop for their expensive habit and the small upstairs loft was no exception. It was squashed between the rather large 16th century wardrobe and a towering bookshelf that barely fit in the space. It was miraculously standing under the hefty weight of books that counted as nighttime reads.

His angel spent most of his time downstairs in the book shop and Crowley couldn’t disagree on the shop being more comfortable. It was a tight squeeze between the books, antique furniture and rare pieces of art wrapped tight in white cloths and stacked against walls. The only reason they were up here was it was the only room with a bed; a strange piece Aziraphale had proudly built in himself. A Murphy bed Crowley believed it was called, a mattress and box spring that folded neatly in the wall when not in use, convenient for Aziraphale to pile more of his hoard in an area meant for sleep.

Aziraphale had laid on his side of the bed, curling into himself, worrying himself thin about imagined threats. Staring towards the tiny kitchen conjoined to the living space. Crowley picked a white wine and decided to neck it. He stared around at the books, art and paperwork piles that found themselves up here. This was a quirk, one he could live with, if Aziraphale had more room he could properly store his things and not set off Crowley’s instincts to toss every item in his path into the garbage.

He sighed flopping down on the mattress, willing his boots to recede back in him leaving his corporation’s feet bare.

“Why do you want to sleep here if you hate it so,” Aziraphale grumbled, bastard thought he could rid himself of the demon with petty fights. Crowley pursed his lips out before blowing a raspberry making Aziraphale grunt in disapproval. He tossed the wine bottle on the nightstand, ready to fully take the angel’s challenge.

“Can’t sleep without my favorite pillow,” Crowley playfully hissed into his ear putting his arm over the angel and kissing his cheek. He snaked his fingers under the unguarded and untucked dress shirt, smile widening as grabbing a handful of plump flesh. He kneaded it with his fingers, played with it a moment, dancing the tip of his nails across flesh until a loud giggle erupted from the angel.

Aziraphale made a divine and loving sound as Crowley tightened his arms around him and pulled him close to his chest. Safe in his arms, never to be lost to Heaven nor Hell again. He placed a kiss on the nape of his neck finally unclenching the angel, making him relax.

“I don’t want to make the wrong decision,” he whispered, “Crowley we barely pulled ourselves out of that mess, if they ever figure out what we did, I want to be in a place not too demonic, not under Heaven’s will, somewhere where we are safe.”

“You’re gonna have to have some blind faith, nothing is that secure,” Crowley whispered into his ear. Crowley had once had blind faith, he had once thought this shop was the safest place one could end up in, but it had lit ablaze with a simple tip of a candle. It could survive the London Fire, it withstood the Blitz, but Shadwell and one candle could bring down this fortress.

“I know,” he acknowledged with a loud sigh, pushing Crowley away and sitting up. Crowley said nothing, just watching as Aziraphale walked over to the printed-out listings of each cottage thrown on a pile of books carelessly. One by the sea, one on farm land, one near Adam Young and one far away, isolated from any humans, a place only for them.

He watched as the angel dug an old beige hat from his overflowing wardrobe and sat it on the nightstand by Crowley. Carefully he folded each home listing up and put them in the hat. He gave Crowley his brightest smile as he turned to him, holding out the hat and shook it impatiently until Crowley finally stuck his hand in and swirled the papers around. He did it longer then Aziraphale would have liked him too, he pouted and glared until Crowley finally put an end to his suffering pulling out a page.

“Well?” Aziraphale demanded as Crowley just stared at the paper, a wicked smile on his face.

“Fait has an odd sense of humor,” he said with a chuckle, turning the paper around for Aziraphale to see. He took the paper and broke into a laugh before throwing it aside, wrapping his arms tightly around Crowley’s neck. Crowley yanked him back into the bed, nipping at his neck as he climbed on top of his angel, smiling wickedly down at him.

“Are you willing to let a demon tempt you into living in the Devil’s Dyke, angel?”

Aziraphale chuckled placing a sweet kiss on the tip of Crowley’s nose as he brought his face down close to his own.

“I took your place in Hell my love, I think I would follow you anywhere.”


End file.
